Four days of rain and my rose-tinted glasses have adjusted slightly to the banal shade of reality. I still love winter more than any other, but without a dryer, or at least a laundry to hide the unsightly clothes airer, I am reminded that no amount of romanticising can diminish the darkness that is necessary for the light. Colder days bring more flus and rain makes washing even less desirous than it already is.
I judge people who do not like to sit and talk. Those who go out to dance and drink themselves silly. I have fun on the occasions that I go out dancing, but my favourite memories are those quiet Wednesday nights at the pub with interesting people and intellectual conversation. Tendrils of vanilla scented
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